Five times the past came back to bother them, and once it gave them happiness
Tom, Pete, and Sarah have complex personal histories. Here are five times her past landed the Kazansky-Mitchell family on other people's radar. Some mistakes, some pain, a lot of courage to move on.
Fandoms:
Top Gun (Movies), Law & Order: SVU
Relationships:
Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Sarah Kazansky/Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Sarah Kazansky/Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Characters:
Sarah Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, John Munch, Donald Cragen, Monique Jeffries, Brian Cassidy, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw
Additional Tags:
Crossover, 5+1 Things
INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/the-lies-we-told-each-other-3-five.html
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Chapter 1: When Sarah's attacker was caught
Summary:
March 2000. While investigating a sailor's crimes, the SVU team doubts whether the relationship between Tom and Sarah Kazansky is truly consensual.
Special Victims Squad Headquarters, Tuesday, March 21, 2000
They stand in front of the mural with the strings and evidence connected by tapes leading to a name: Troy Manning, Navy lieutenant, assigned to the USS Enterprise for the past ten years as a gunnery technician. Cragen looks optimistic but cautious.
"So we have everything to pass the case to the D.A.?"
Stabler nods.
"There is no DNA, but there are security cameras and testimonies from two victims in New York and three others..."
"Five," Benson corrects him.
"Five other victims from different cities willing to testify," he continues, "the coincidence between the attacks and the USS Enterprise presence in the area, and the restricted-access drugs he had in his possession."
"But we still don't know how he got the drugs," laments the captain.
"No," Benson admits. "We suspect someone from the Navy but don't have jurisdiction there."
"And they won't open the doors for us," warns Munch without lifting his eyes from the file he is studying. "It is strange that they are not already here, claiming military jurisdiction."
"Ah." Cragen sneers. "I'm sure the military police don't want to get their hands dirty. They leave the pervert to us, but we can't study his contacts in the Navy and accuse his accomplices. Because Manning couldn't do all of this alone,” he points to the pattern of moves the SVU team has pieced together in the past week.
"Speaking of accomplices," Munch intervenes, "I've been thinking about what he said, about doing 'what I had to do.' Doesn't that sound like a cult phrase? How do you follow in someone's footsteps?"
Cragen looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Are you suggesting he's a copycat?"
"Or that he's a disciple," Munch agrees. "After all, the military structure is ideal for recruiting people willing to obey the craziest or most disgusting instructions."
Stabler and Cragen, both veterans, look at each other uncomfortably, but this time they can't dismiss their colleague's idea out of hand.
"Keep going," the captain encourages him.
"I wonder if we can get to his accomplices by looking back in time rather than trying to beat the Navy legal team into Manning's current social circle."
"Not a bad idea," Benson says with a thoughtful expression. "Captain, if there's any chance of finding another assailant, or at least other victims..."
Cragen nods.
"Very good! Jeffries, we just found you something to do until that ankle heals: go through the files of the last ten years looking for similar cases. We already know the pattern, so it should be easy to retrieve the reports."
She nods and moves in the swivel chair to her workstation.
"Cassidy."
The young detective raises his head, eager to receive an assignment.
"Your task is to keep Jeffries from making this a physical chore. I know the files are digitized from 1995, but you must help her with the boxes from ninety to ninety-four. OK?
New York Police Archives, Friday, March 24, 2000
"This is the last box," Cassidy reports, setting it next to the table where Jeffries studies yellowed papers. "Unsolved sex crimes, January and February 1990. Need anything else? Coffee? Water?"
"A bat, to bust the balls of the officers who processed these cases," Monique answers without looking up.
Cassidy laughs but ignores the comment. The entire team has sometimes felt this way when interacting with officers from other branches, whose sensitivity to sexual violence is non-existent. He reaches for his jacket when a noise from the table stops him.
Monique has a folder open in her right and left hands on the desk, her index finger marking a date on a form. Her eyes move desperately from one document to another.
"Did you find anything?"
"I think so…" -then she explodes- "Damn sons of bitches!"
Special Victims Squad Headquarters, Friday, March 24
They are back around the board with the photos, notes, and connections. Jeffries and Cassidy have added a whole new section, with cases they suspect are due to Manning or his accomplices in 1990, 1994, and 1997.
"The only one I'm completely sure of is July 1990," Monique explains. "The victim's description is identical to the eight confirmed cases. After drinking something innocuous, she felt out of her body, like in a trance. Her attacker was in front of her, but she couldn't make out his face. She only remembers that he was blond and had a white navy uniform."
"And she fits the pattern," Brian adds. "Sarah Seresin was a young woman of clear indigenous biotype who recently turned twenty. She was celebrating with her friends the nursing and midwifery course graduation."
"Was the USS Enterprise in New York in those days?" Cragen asks.
"No, in New Jersey, for repairs."
"Close enough," the captain agrees. "What do we know about the victim?"
"That the officers who took her statement laughed at her," Jeffries replies angrily. "Look at this! They asked him if she had eaten any mushrooms from her tribe. There's no tracking, there's no sexual assault kit. Nothing!"
Stabler grunts and clenches his fists. Then he forces himself to breathe very slowly to calm himself.
"But where is she now?" Cragen insists.
"We don't know sir," Brian admits.
"Very good," the captain sighed. "It's late, and we have other cases. Munch, I want you to start looking for her on Monday. She went somewhere. Hopefully, she's alive and wants to help put that monster behind bars."
Special Victims Squad Headquarters, Monday, March 27
"Hum."
Olivia puts the form she was filling out on the table and looks at Munch. After more than six months of working with the man, she knows quite a bit about his noises. This grunt means, "I see something I don't like."
"Did you find Sarah Seresin?"
"I think so," he agrees without taking his eyes off the computer screen. "But I don't know if she will talk to us about the case."
"Is she dead?"
"No, she is in good health. She has lived in San Diego since 1994," -but Munch's tone is not reassuring. "It took me a while to find her because she married and changed her last name. Now she is Sarah Kazansky. The problem is that she has a nine-year-old daughter..."
Olivia does a quick mental calculation and winces. Damm! Munch keeps explaining.
"…whose birth certificate lists Tom Kazansky as the child's father."
"That's strange," she admits.
The detective gets up and goes to Munch's table.
"Maybe they had a previous relationship, and he decided to support her?"
Munch shakes his head and purses his lips.
"Tom Kazansky is a Navy pilot. In 1990 he was assigned to the USS Enterprise and spent the week of July 8-14 in New York. Nine months later, he is in Chicago for the birth of Sarah's baby. Doesn't that seem suspicious?"
"Let 's go see Cragen!"
Special Victims Squad Headquarters, Wednesday, March 29
Elliot sees the officer move through the precinct tables, and the hairs on his neck stood up. In his years as a Marine, he learned to quickly recognize aides, and this is a poster boy in his crisp white uniform and shiny cap. He stands up without thinking and stops him.
"Can I help you?" He says without a hint of sympathy.
The other is unfazed by his aggressiveness.
"Lieutenant Jeremy Novak, Navy Operations," he answers with a smile. "Detective Stabler, right? We found out that your squad was asking about a family of ours."
Elliot winces. Yes, the squad has been asking because the story of Sarah Kazansky, nee Seresin, just doesn't fit. Cragen followed official channels with little hope of obtaining the Kazansky file and cross-referencing it with Manning's attacks. Elliot called some old Navy contacts to learn about his meteoric career. He knows Munch did the same through his network of conspiracy theorists and actual spies. However, they did not expect such a frontal response from the institution.
"If you come here to intimidate us..."
"Stabler?" Cragen's tone is both a question and a warning.
The lieutenant's smile grows even bigger -how is that possible?- as he walks around the detective and goes to the door of the captain's office.
"Captain Cragen," he says, holding out his hand. "I'm Lieutenant Jeremy Novak, Navy Operations. I'm here because of your squad's interest in Tom Kazansky and his wife."
But Elliot won't be easily ignored. He follows Novak into Cragen's office. His boss gives him an exasperated look but doesn't order him to leave.
"Sit down, Novak." The officer complies, pulling his cap with mathematical precision over the center of his thighs.
"Thank you."
Stabler takes the other chair across from the captain's desk.
"What can I do for you?"
"You can tell me what leads your squad to inquire about the family of Rear Admiral Kazansky. We thought you guys had already taken your yearly Navy bite and will turn on the Army or Air Force."
Despite the harshness in his voice, Novak smiles like a Kent doll. But Cragen is not intimidated.
"The case of Lieutenant Manning is still open. We want to cover all the bases."
Novak narrows his eyes.
"I find it strange that to cover all bases, you start tracking a decorated officer who barely knew him and not the defendant's inner circle."
"We go where the investigation takes us," Cragen says with a smirk.
"The investigation will not take you very far if it collides with national security interests."
Stabler can't contain his surprise.
"What!?"
The lieutenant turns to look directly at him. His face has become a contemptuous mask.
"The Navy can only have one hundred and sixty rear admirals. Rank is not given away, and we protect those officers and their families. Kazansky passed the strictest internal and external controls before being confirmed. Yes, he has skeletons in the closet, but he is not an accomplice to Manning." He turns to the captain. "Consider this a courtesy call." He stands up and begins to put on his cap. "Anything else I can help you with?"
"Since you mention it," the captain stops him with a gesture, "we believe that Sarah Kazansky may have pertinent information on the case."
Novak blinks a few times and looks at Cragen with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. Finally, he sighs, and it's the first time he's spokes as if he's following orders that he doesn't like.
"She will arrive tomorrow afternoon to spend the weekend in the city. She is willing to speak to you, off the record," -he emphasizes the last part- "on Friday morning. Hotel "The Mark." There will be children there, so be discreet."
“The Mark” Hotel, corner of E 77th St and Madison Ave, Friday, March 31
"Have you been here before?" Olivia asks as they ride the elevator up.
Elliot shifts his shoulders uncomfortably and shakes his head.
"Way above my budget and the budget of a rear admiral and his wife, a professor at a public university," he notes.
She nods, and they wait to say anything else until they reach the suite door.
A tall and stocky teenager with a still tender face opens the door. He must be fifteen or sixteen years old.
"Yes?"
"Officers Benson and Stabler," she starts to say as she shows her identification.
The boy's eyes go from vaguely bored to clearly annoyed, and he doesn't let her finish.
"Really?" He growls and turns back into the suite. "Dad, the police!"
An eight or nine-year-old blond boy comes running up and grabs onto the boy's waist. He is followed with a more relaxed step by a dark-haired man, whose hair falls over his green eyes and is quite stocky. He wears an elegant dark gray three-piece suit and a lighter shade of tie. The teenager complains in the jaded tone that Elliot knows so well from his daughter.
"Please, Dad, next year, can we go on vacation somewhere where the cops aren't looking for you?"
The detectives exchange questioning looks.
"Brad," the man answers calmly, "we're not on vacation, and the cops aren't looking for me."
He turns to the detectives.
"Good morning. How can we help you?"
"We are officers Benson and Stabler," -Olivia repeats- "from the Special Victims Unit -she spares the explanation of "sex crimes" it doesn't seem pertinent with Brad and the other child there. "We're looking for Sarah Kazansky."
The man nods and is about to say something, but the boy's voice rises in defiance.
"My iná did nothing wrong."
Elliot does not know the term "iná", but it is clear that Sarah is dear to the little one. He crouched down to catch up with him.
"Of course not," he assures him. "We came to ask for her help."
The boy frowns and looks at him intently for a moment before nodding.
"OK," and he steps aside as if he can let them through.
Elliot barely contains a laugh. Standing up, he can also see a glint of amusement in his partner's eyes. Brad has put a hand on the boy's shoulder and is holding him protectively against him, giving them a challenging look. The man has a more complicated expression, a mixture of pride and melancholy that disappears almost immediately.
"Brad, take the sensaku to the room, close the door, and turn on the TV," he says softly, but it's clearly an order.
Brad looks between the man and the detectives, doubtful.
"Now!" this time, the voice has an edge of undeniable hardness.
Brad takes the boy by the hand and walks into the suite.
"Come on, Jake, let them talk about boring things. We can watch Transformers in my room."
"Yes!" -The child runs. "Sam, Sean, let's watch the Transformers!"
The man gives them one last tender look before turning to the officers.
"Good morning. My name is Pete Mitchell."
"Oh my Good! You're Maverick," Elliot exclaims, his admiration making him drop professionalism in a flash.
Mitchell relaxes, clearly amused by Elliot's reaction.
"And you were a Marine, Detective Stabler?"
"Desert Storm," he nods, "your low flights saved my butt more than once."
"Thank you for saving my partner's life," Olivia interrupts, "but we really need to talk to Sarah Kazansky."
This causes the two men to become serious again.
"Of course. Follow me."
Mitchell leads them through the hall to a door that leads to a smaller room. The space is illuminated by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Madison Avenue and furnished with various sets of wine-red armchairs, sofas, and mahogany-colored coffee tables. A woman is sitting on a loveseat with a coffee service in front of her. She gets up as soon as they enter.
Sarah Kazansky is very different from the photos in the file of her attack. She was skinny then, to the point that it was hard to believe that she was already twenty years old. The bruises on her face and neck gave her a hopeless air. Her eyes had a gleam of fear, like a hunted animal. She is now a woman with round features and tanned skin, wearing a dark blue tailored suit that contrasts nicely with the black hair braid that falls over her left breast below her sternum.
"Mrs. Kazansky," Olivia approaches. "Thank you for having us. I'm Detective Benson with the Special Victims Unit. This is my colleague Stabler."
Sarah gives them a smile that doesn't reach her eyes and looks suspiciously at Elliot.
"Shall we sit down?" Mitchell takes Mrs. Kazansky's hand and leads her down to the sofa. Then he gestures to the service at the table. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please," Elliot agrees, always sleep-deprived.
Olivia decides that the smell is quite tempting. Who knows when she'll have something to drink in a place like this again? She nods.
To the detectives' surprise, it is Mitchell who serves them. Sarah sits very upright.
The caffeine fix causes Stabler to snap out of his fascination with Mitchell and ask the obvious question.
"We were told the Kazansky family was in town for a visit and the lady was willing to talk to us, but what are you doing here, Mr. Mitchell?"
"Pete is my brother-in-law," Sarah speaks for the first time.
"Your brother-in-law?" Olivia doesn't remember any sisters in Sarah Seresin's profile.
"Ice and I are wingmen, brothers on land. My wife and Sarah decided that we should live together to raise the children," the man clarifies without looking up as he pours his coffee.
The detective purses her lips, uncomfortable. There is something there... the explanation is the truth, not the whole truth.
"And your wife?" She believes that Sarah would prefer the support of another woman in this situation.
"She died two years ago of cancer."
"I'm sorry."
He nods, there is some longing in his eyes, but —as in his tenderness with the boy earlier— it disappears quickly. Elliot decides to return to the reason for their visit.
"Mrs. Kazansky, you filed a complaint for sexual assault on July 12, 1990. What can you tell us about that?"
"No. First tell me, do you have him?"
"We have a suspect in custody, yes. But we fear that he has accomplices. You said that you were attacked after interacting with several sailors. Correct?"
She nods. Her face becomes an empty mask, and her eyes look at an indeterminate point on the wall.
"It was hot. Central Park is nice at that time of year. The city was rife with young men in white uniforms. My friends and I… we left the graduation ceremony straight to celebrate. It had been difficult that year, but I believed that at last… that at last…"
She covers her mouth and holds back a sob. Mitchell puts down his coffee, puts a hand on her thigh, and whispers something into her ear. She takes a deep breath and calms down. Elliot and Olivia exchange strange glances: very intimate behavior for a brother-in-law, isn't it? Sarah Kazansky sighs and speaks again.
"We found them near the zoo. I found curious that they were all blonde. Not that the Navy is the most diverse institution, but finding five blond sailors is unusual, isn't it?"
"Sailors?" Elliot says.
She nods.
"Are you sure they weren't Marines or Airmen? Because in your original statement, it only says "white uniforms."
"It's been ten years, and I joined a military family. Now I can recognize the differences in the uniforms."
"Very well, continue."
"We stayed because they weren't drinking alcohol. It seemed safe. They offered us their "fruit juice," and we bought hot dogs. I remember thinking that the prices in the Park were outrageous but for one day… It was my graduation, right? After a while, I started to feel bad, so I decided to leave. One of them offered to walk me to the subway. At the subway entrance, I realized that I had lost my card and had no more money. I decided to walk, and he said that he would accompany me."
"Do you remember his name?"
"He told me his name was Ken, like Barbie's boyfriend," she laughs bitterly. "I'm sure the five of us gave false names."
"How?!"
Sarah Kazansky looks at Olivia wearily.
"They said their names were Ken, Alan, Matt, Storm, and Doug. Rings a bell?"
Elliot has three daughters. Of course, two of those names ring a bell.
"Ken and Alan are toys, yes. The other three…" he looks at his partner.
"Oh!" Olivia's eyes light up with understanding. "Major Matt Mason's team on the moon: Sergeant Storm and Engineer Doug. It's another Mattel toy line!"
Sarah nods, and her gaze wanders again. Dissociation seems to be her resource for remembering the event.
"We walked… from the Park to my apartment it was about thirty minutes. The distance had never cost me, but that day I arrived stumbling. I guess it was whatever was in the juice. I knew I couldn't climb the stairs alone, so I agreed that he would come with me into the building and the apartment. He grabbed me by the neck and..."
Her voice cracks, and she rests her forehead on Mitchell's shoulder.
"Do we have to continue?" he demands. "It is the same thing she said in the police report ten years ago."
"When they laughed at me," she recalls.
Elliot feels his rage against the officers who received the report boils. Anger is his frequent companion these days. At least now he has specific recipients. But anger can't divert him.
"You said you didn't remember their faces."
She separates from her brother-in-law.
"No. It's very disturbing. Remember their voices, their haircuts, but not their faces. All my memories of that day are of people without faces, as if I was within some horror film. Does that have to do with the drug they gave me?"
"We believe so, yes. One of the problems with the case is that we don't know who was supplying our suspect with this drug."
"I got it from the ship's pharmacy, of course," Mitchell says.
"It could be."
Olivia will not tell him that the Navy has been denied access to the USS Enterprise personnel data and pharmacy inventory. She prefers to focus on what they can get.
"Mrs. Kazansky, did you meet Tom Kazansky before or after the attack?"
It's automatic. The name makes Mitchell and Sarah tense up. She straightens up and shifts her eyes from Elliot to Olivia strangely as if trying to solve a riddle.
"Oh!" she says suddenly and turns to his brother-in-law. "They think it was Tom."
Mitchell makes a disgusted face.
"That means that…" he smiles slightly at the detectives. "The suspect was a sailor from the USS Enterprise, right?"
"We can't…" Elliot starts to say.
"Please! Two ships were anchored in the area that week, the USS Saratoga here in town and the USS Enterprise in New Jersey. The only reason to ask about Tom is that you think he might have had contact with the suspect."
"You are strangely familiar with the Navy's movements in town that week, Mr. Mitchell," Olivia replies accusingly, but the man does not lose a beat.
"Of course, I was on the USS Saratoga. I spent a couple of days in the city between the 9th and 11th of July. Then I went to Iraq to save your partner from Saddam Hussein's missiles."
"Sometimes we joke, Pete, Tom, and I, that our destiny was to meet in New York that week, but fate prevented it, and, instead of one of them, I found Ken."
The detectives look at each other in confusion.
"If you didn't meet Tom Kazansky that week, why are you listed him as Samantha's father on the birth certificate?"
"Human feelings are complicated, but the forms of the Navy are simple, conventional. I met Tom in Chicago in November 1990. He was on medical leave, visiting his friend William Cortell. Cortell's wife, Vivian, volunteered at a women's shelter where I was staying and invited me to Thanksgiving dinner. I was hungry. Pregnancy makes you very hungry, so I accepted. Tom is a tender, understanding, generous, patient man. It was easy to fall in love with him. My husband is also a calculating man. Do you have any idea what it would do to his image to enter into a relationship with a disgraced woman and accept a baby of an unknown father as your own? So we made up that we had met in that horrible week."
"That's why you didn't get married until 1994," Olivia understands.
"Tom is a good man," she repeats. "He waited for me to be ready."
Special Victims Squad Headquarters, Tuesday, April 3
Munch and Jeffries are discussing the best strategy for interrogating the suspect in custody when they see the navy lieutenant arrive, followed by two sailors bringing a light forklift full of boxes of documents.
She steps forward.
"Can we help you?"
"Lieutenant Novak, Navy Operations."
She and Munch exchange an exasperated look. Elliot told them about the guy's threats. As on his previous visit, Novak is unfazed by the detectives' reactions.
"I bring you a little gift. Is Captain Cragen around?"
Considering his companion's still sore ankle, Munch knocks on the captain's office door. Cragen storms out.
"What story of national security do you have now?"
"One with a happy ending, I hope." He gestures, and the sailors move the load of documents to the center of the squadron area. "Here is the list of personnel and inventories for the USS Enterprise pharmacy from 1989 to last year. The print is small, but I'm sure the NYPD can supply you with magnifying glasses." Then he hands Cragen a card. "This is my phone. When you have suspicions of someone specific, let me know. We will be happy to provide another guest for Rikers."
The detectives stare at the mountain of documents in disbelief. They've been asking for a fraction of this for weeks and have never heard back.
"How…?"
Novak grins like a shark, all teeth and cruel eyes.
"It's a little gift from Rear Admiral Kazansky."
INDEX: https://palabraspulsares.blogspot.com/p/the-lies-we-told-each-other-3-five.html
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